


there will be a day when we can say we are okay and mean it

by snowkatze



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Internalized Transphobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Trans!Simon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 10:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16721886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowkatze/pseuds/snowkatze
Summary: Everyone thinks Simone is a girl - including himself - until after a fight with the Mage, he accidentally uses the spell “Just be yourself” - and finds himself in the body of a guy, and suddenly it becomes much harder for him to stop thinking about Baz, too.





	there will be a day when we can say we are okay and mean it

_Just be yourself._ I feel like I'm going to burst from anger, from the petty discontent of being misunderstood, and neglected. I feel like my magic is going to spill, and like everything is just getting worse. A cliché one-liner in response to all my concerns.  _Just be yourself._ I tell him I don't know how to be a hero and how to save the World of Mages and he doesn't listen, or care.

Sometimes it feels like I'm attached to a wax figure, or a chatbot, not a real person, who keeps spilling his fortune-cookie-wisdom. It makes me want to scream. I half-hope that Baz is in the room. I'm afraid of going off, but it also feels like I  _need_ to fight, like all my pent-up anger is going to explode inside of me if I don't.

_Just be yourself._ He says it like it's easy, as if it could ever be easy, or like he wants me to be myself. He doesn't. Everyone wants something from me, everyone, especially him.

A good fucking  _girl_ . The epitome of bravery. I chuck my chin out and storm into our room and I can feel tears prickling in my eyes. He's not here. The one time that I need him to hate me, he's not here.

I flee into the bathroom, trying to clean my face with cold water, but I catch my reflection in the mirror and hold still.

I don't look quite right. It's like I'm wearing a disguise, like I'm not real. Sometimes I look into the mirror and think, that face is not my face. The short golden curls, the soft eyes, the round cheeks. It looks like the face that should belong to a golden  _girl_ , not me. I feel like another person could make it work, but something is not quite right with the way I wear it. It looks distorted, slightly awkward. But it's like only I can see that. Everyone else sees a pretty  _girl_ , and a brave  _girl_ , and the Chosen One. She is not myself. I tug at my face, pull at my skin, trying to morph it into something different. It's times like these that I wish I was a shape shifter, but I'm stuck in this body, and it never quite feels like it belongs to me.

I feel like I'm an invader in my own body and my own life, like I wasn't supposed to live it, like I was supposed to be someone else.

And it's not me.

I'm not myself.

I don't know who I am. I don't know who I think I was supposed to be. I don't like to think about it. But I can't be myself if I don't know who that is. I can't save the World of Mages being my own fucked-up self. The Mage should have told me to be someone bolder, braver, better and more skilled than I am. Someone like Baz. He should have told me I have to be like Baz. Maybe then I could save everyone.

I run my fingers through my hair and let out a growl. His voice keeps echoing in my mind, like a record that's stuck. Who? Who do you want me to be? Can't he at least be honest about it? Quit lying to me? Or maybe he doesn't know, doesn't care, that the person I truly am is nothing but a disappointment. If I'm the Chosen One, then there must be someone who chose me, and maybe that person is the one who's really fucked-up. Because honestly. Who would chose someone like me to be a hero? I'm not even a good magician, and he just can't see it, and he just can't see  _me_ . Whoever he – whoever that is. An idiot who loves sour cherry scones. Great. Awesome. Someone like that can fix the world and fight the humdrum.

Fuck. Fuck him. And I still don't know what to do, and I can't.

I pull my wand out of my pocket and point it at my tear-streamed face.

“ _ **Just be yourself**_ ,” I spit the words out and pour all my magic into them. I don't know what I expect to happen. Maybe to turn into a can of garbage. I keep staring at myself in the mirror, waiting. After a few moments, I realize that something has shifted. There's something wrong with my face. No, not wrong. Right. There's something right with it that wasn't right before. It's like the edges of my face have finally become defined, like I can finally see clearly who I am, in a way that I never could before. It takes me another second to realize that it's the face of a guy I'm staring at.

Oh.

_Oh._

It's still my face, except it's not, at least not the one I've worn all my life. I feel a twinge of nervousness in my chest. My flat chest. What does this mean?

I lean closer and stare at my face. It feels like this is the face I was supposed to have all along, if that even makes any sense.

I wonder how long I have wanted this.

I would say that I didn't, but then why is there a list in my head of things I want – and I can see them now. It's a list of things not to think about. A deeper voice. One that matches the voice in my mind – that is always screaming. Broad shoulders. A sharp face. (The fact that Baz likes guys.) The reason why I like how Baz calls me Snow instead of Simone.

I can't think about it, I can't allow myself to think about it, about what it all means, and how I can't do anything about it – but it's hard, so hard, when it's all staring me straight in the face.

It's so hard to figure it all out. It's better not to think at all – and it's easy, in between all the fighting. It's better not to think about it.

It's so easy not to try and figure out who you are when all you are is a sword, not a person. A tool for someone else. It's not nice, it's not good, and it's tearing me apart most of the time, but it is easy. A lot easier than trying to be myself.

And maybe this is me getting one step closer to figuring it all out. I lift my fingers to touch my face – but not to morph and twist it. It looks right like this. And it's like something has lifted from my shoulders, like I'm half my weight, even though I'm surely heavier than I used to be. It's like I can finally stand up straight, even though I had not been aware that something had been holding me down. And I can breathe – finally breathe – really deeply. I feel like I can take on anything. Come at me, world. Bring it on.

I step away from the mirror and smile an easy smile, and finally, it doesn't feel forced, but genuine. It's like I can finally stop pretending. Was I pretending? I must have been. And now I can be honest with myself.

I step out of the bathroom, feeling like a real person for once. With a straight back. And deep breaths. And a lifted chin. Someone ready to face the world.

It all comes tumbling down when the door snaps open and Baz comes in. I feel the panic rushing through my body, and I can feel myself shrinking under his gaze. I forgot that facing the world includes facing people, and people like Baz, and people who might not understand. And how could anyone understand? It's all in my head, and whenever I try to communicate what's going on in my head to the outside-world, I mess it up. How can I ever make someone see me as I am when I can't get out a coherent sentence? How can I show them that all the ideas that they have about me are wrong when I can't speak my mind?

“Snow,” he breaks the silence and my breath hitches. “Did you fuck up a spell or something?”  
_No_ , I want to tell him. _I think, for the first time, I did something right._ But I can't get the words out. The truth gets stuck in my throat. But I don't want to be a coward any longer. I want to be the brave person everyone wants me to be.

I'm starting to feel confident again, so I lift my chin and simply say: “No.”  
I don't have to explain myself to him. He doesn't press it and just walks over to his bed. It startles me because I expected him to say something. I kind of wanted him to say something. And suddenly, I have the overwhelming urge to tell him everything, which is probably not the best idea, because it's Baz. But... It's Baz. And even though it's horrible, it often feels like he's the only person I can be myself with, the only person who doesn't expect anything from me. He doesn't have any impossible expectations. I want to yell at him, _this is me._

His eyes dart over to me and I want to catch his gaze. I want to walk over to him. Why do I want that? Why do I -

There is something curious in the way he looks at me. Or maybe he's just irritated that I'm staring at him. I feel like I have to say it, or else it won't be real.

“This is me.”  
He puts on a bored expression.

“What do you mean?”  
“I mean – that – that -”  
Baz has never expected anything from me. I could never disappoint him, because he doesn't expect me to do well in the first place. And whatever he says to me can't hurt me. That's why I have to say it to him first.

“I'm a guy.”

He raises his eyebrow slightly, but doesn't react otherwise. He looks at me so intently that it doesn't feel like he looks through me, but into me. Like he can read my thoughts.

And maybe he just has that ability. To make me spill everything.

“I'm not a girl, Baz. All my life, I felt like there was something wrong with me, like I was letting everybody down by just... by just being me. By being the only girl in the Mummer's house. But I know it now. This. This is me.”  
He keeps staring at me.

And I'm thinking, maybe he _can_ hurt me, because I'm pretty sure I'm going to start crying if he laughs at me. I don't think I can look at his face any longer, so I turn around and dart to the door.

“Simon.”

His voice stops me in my tracks.

“Are you saying... You're trans?”  
My heart is racing and I feel my palms go sweaty. I turn around very slowly, watching how his hair falls in a wave over his forehead.

He gives me a small smile.

_He called me Simon._

“ I don't know,” I whisper, because I feel like if I speak any louder, the presence of that word will vanish. It echoes in my mind. Simon. Simon. Simon. “Probably. Yes.”

Simon. Simon. Simon.  
“Simon.”

I lift my head immediately when I realize that he said it again. Suddenly his face is so soft and his voice is low, like he's speaking to a scared animal. And I am. Scared. And there are tears running down my face that I didn't notice before.

“It's okay,” he murmurs and suddenly I want nothing more than to bury my head in his shoulder and cry, but I know that I can't, that he doesn't want me to, that I told him, trusted him with something like this, and he might find it okay, but he still hates me.

“Simon, it's okay, it's all fine, you're alright,” he adds and his hand twitches. For a second, I think he wants to reach out to me.

I stumble towards him. No matter who I am, he's always going to hate me. But he despises me for something I have no control over, being the Chosen One, and the Mage's heir, which I don't think I could quit, and doesn't that make him like everyone else, isn't there anything that could make him tolerate me, could make him hug me right now?

I close my eyes and shake my head, willing the thoughts away, the thoughts that I have been avoiding all my life, but that have always been there, like demons in the back of my mind and they don't stop, don't stop, never stop.

You can never tell anyone else, no one is ever going to see you, and you're always going to be alone and maybe Baz is right to hate you because you can't make anyone understand and he has always criticised you for that, right, Snow, use your words, use your words,  _ use your fucking words. _

“ _Simon.”  
Simon. Simon. Simon._

“Breathe. Slowly. Count to ten.”  
One. I take a deep breath. Two. I exhale softly. Three. I open my eyes. Four. Suddenly, he's in front of me. Five. A hand on my shoulder. Six. A hand? Seven. On my shoulder? Eight. He's put his hand on my shoulder. Nine. It's cold. Ten. I wish he would hug me.

“It's alright, Simon,” he whispers. I wish he would -

His lips look soft.

“I'm never going to be right for him, Baz,” I croak. “You were right all along. What if – What if I'm going to fail everybody? What if – I can't – save everyone?”  
“Then that's alright, you hear me? You don't have to carry the fucking world on your shoulders, Snow.”  
“No, please, call me Simon.”  
“Alright, Simon. It's not all on you, okay? You're just a kid.”  
“I've never been just a kid, and you know that.”  
“Of course you are. You can just be a kid, Simon. You don't have to worry about... Gosh, I know you're always going to worry, but... You're just a... boy. You know. Do your homework. You don't always have to be ready for a fight.”  
“Baz, do you even hear yourself?”  
_ A boy. _

“I've never had someone make me lunch for school. I've got my idea of a happy family from candy commercials. Nobody got sad when I left or was happy when I came home. So don't call me a kid, okay? Because I've never been that.”

And his eyes start glistening at that, and he looks very sad.

“I thought that you... That nothing could... But Crowley, Simon. I guess you're way more fucked-up than I thought you were.”

“I-”

“Sorry. Sorry. What I'm trying to say is – I didn't think anything could hurt you. But I can – I can see it now. You are. Hurting.”  
I close my arms around myself, because I know that he's right. I shouldn't have let him see me like this. I shouldn't have told him. It only makes me vulnerable. And him being nice to me only makes me hope, and nothing good has ever come from that.

“Come on, Snow. I'm going to show you that you can be anything you want to be. Because I won't allow it any other way.”

“Why?”  
“What?”  
“Why do you care, Baz? You hate me. Right?”

He looks at me for a moment.

“Where's the fun in defeating something that is already broken?” he says, but there's no emotion behind it. He doesn't want to tell me the real reason, but I'm not going to push it. I'm going to choose to trust him for today. Even if he's up to something, I've got to see what it is. I know that I won't be able to rest until I know what it is, so I might as well go for the quickest way to get an answer out of him. Playing along.

“Don't worry,” I try to smile. “I won't make it that easy for you.”

 

* * *

 

“What? Are you serious?”  
“Deadly.”  
We're in the men's section at a fancy clothing store that I assume Baz buys all his clothing from, but normal people only go to for formal wear.

I give him a look.

“I thought you wanted to find yourself? Yes?”  
I nod reluctantly.  
“So, how about we start here. What do you want to look like?”  
“How is that important?”  
He scoffs at me.  
“It's how you want to present yourself to the world.”  
“You're just trying to give me a make-over, aren't you?”  
“You look like a numpty!”

“If you think we're gonna have some weird Cinderella moment, you're wrong. None of these clothes are gonna look like they fit me.”  
“We'll see about that.”

And he strolls around like he owns the place, though I'm not entirely sure that he doesn't.

“Baz,” I whine. “I don't like going shopping.”  
He ignores me and keeps walking through the aisles, as if he knew exactly what he's looking for. I stumble after him. I have no idea what I'm doing.

“Well,” he says and turns around. “What do you want?”  
“What do I -” I sputter. “I-”  
He frowns.  
“I don't-” I start. Then I realize that I've never thought about that before. What sort of clothes I'd like to wear. What's the point in thinking about it? What's the point in thinking about running my fingers through raven black hair, soft touches, someone calling me “Simon”, if I could never -

“I don't want anything,” I conclude, shaking my head. “I've never wanted anything.”  
“I don't believe that, Simon,” he says softly and the way my heart swells when he says that tells me that he's right.

“All I've ever wanted,” I say and grit my teeth,”was to save the World of Mages. Nothing more.”  
“Look, I'm going to make it easy for you. What's your favourite colour?”  
It's not something I've thought about either, but as soon as he says it, the colour of a stormy autumn day rushes to my mind.

“Gray,” I reply. He smirks at me like I've revealed something far more important than my favourite colour. It feels like I have.

He saunters on, skimming the rows of suits and when his eyes eventually land on something he likes, he pulls it out and hands it to me. It's a grey suit with thin white lines on it.

 

* * *

  
When I step out of the dressing room, I feel a bit awkward. It's not like the suit doesn't fit – but it feels like it doesn't fit _me_ , like I could never be the kind of handsome or rich or confident kind of guy who wears it. But seeing it in the mirror did make me feel like I could be, no, like I am some kind of guy.

Baz sits in front of the dressing room and looks up at me when I step out. I pull at my tie nervously. I tug a the cuffs and wait for him to say something, but he doesn't.  
“Baz?”  
He gulps.

“Yeah?”  
“So, what do you think?”  
“I, I mean. You look. Like.”

He lets out a nervous laugh.  
“It's like you're. So. Uhm. You're really. Really. I mean.”  
He runs his fingers through his hair and avoids my eyes.

“That bad?”  
“No, it looks... alright.”  
“Where would I even wear this kind of thing?”  
Suddenly something seems to switch inside of him and he's his usual self.

“I don't know, Snow, if you ever decided to live like a civilized person and dress up for Sunday dinner or go to the opera or a ball, I mean, then you would need some decent attire.”

“I guess I could wear it for the Leaver's ball, but... I can't wear it anyway. Not on my normal... body.”  
“Why not?”  
“Why – Why not? I mean – because – it would look weird.”  
“I think it would look weird if you wore anything other than that suit, Simon.”  
“I... okay. But. I can't keep it anyway. I don't have that much money.”  
“I'm buying it for you.”  
“But -”  
“No buts. You're keeping the suit.”  
Maybe he does like the suit. Knowing that makes it easier to wear. Suddenly it doesn't feel so tight around my shoulders. I wonder if Baz' boyfriend would wear a suit like this. I wonder if he has a boyfriend. I wonder if I -

We're going to Starbucks. Baz is appalled when I tell him that I've never been to one before.

“What do you want, Snow?” he asks when it's our turn to order. I flinch, startled. I had expected him to pick something for me. He gives me an admonishing look and I hurry to focus on the list of drinks.

“Uh...”  
Most of them are drinks that I have no concept of.

“I'll have a... a...”  
I pick the first thing that catches my eye.  
“An.... Iced... Blonde... Gingerbread Latte?”  
“Don't sound so insecure,” Baz sneers. “You can go first.”  
“O-okay. Uhm. Hi.”  
The barista smiles at me.  
“What can I get you, handsome?”  
“A Ginger- Gingerbead Blonde – I mean – Iced – I mean -”  
“An Iced Blonde Gingerbread Latte?”  
“Yes! Right.”

“And your name is...”  
“Si-”  
I gulp.  
“My name is Simon.”  
It feels right. And yet, all out of a sudden, I feel like the friendly barista is going to point at me and call me a liar. I feel like the people in the cue behind me are going to start laughing. I feel like the Mage is going to barge into the room in a ridiculous outfit and drag me back to Watford and back to reality and back to dragons' dying cries and back to 'Simone' and back to swords slicing through flesh like butter and back to being a line in a prophecy. And I don't want to go back, I would do anything, I would – Suddenly there's a hand on my back.

The barista smiles at me.

Someone in line behind me looks at his watch. They're chattering.

The door remains closed. No one looks at me.

Baz' hand is on my back.

“I'll have a Pumpkin Mocha Breve.”  
“Like usual, Baz?”  
He nods and steps forward to pay, but his hand keeps resting on my back.

Steps to the counter. Baz scrunches his nose when he talks. A cold cup in my hand. Bright lights of the corridor. Red cushions. 'Simon' in neat small letters right in front of me.

It's so easy. It's too easy. Sometimes. You have to forget. It's easy when there's nobody watching you. It's easy when Baz is complaining, not insulting. And the soft crease of his brow. Forgetting even that he's my enemy. I fidget with the cup in my hand. What would the Mage say if he saw me sitting here, drinking coffee with Baz Pitch. 'Simon' on my cup. What would Agatha say? “Why does a letter in a word matter so much to you?” His words echo in the back of my mind. “Just be yourself.” If only he'd meant it. What would Baz say? “I always knew you were a failure, but you take it to levels even I didn't expect.”

“Hey,” Baz says. “Are you alright?”

I shake my head.

“I'm not sure... I'm not sure I've ever been... alright.”

What would the girls in the care home say? Weirdo. Creep.  
“Simon, listen. Everything is going to be okay. I promise. I know you're scared.”

What would Penny say? “Only a masochist would fall in love with Baz Pitch.”

The half-empty cup makes a loud splash when it hits the ground.  
“Simon?!”

I'm not alright. I'm not alright. I'm not alright.

The ringing in my ears doesn't stop until we're back at Watford in our room. Baz tries to get me to talk to him, but I focus on a point over his head. I can see him furrow his brows in my peripheral vision. Almost as if he was concerned about me. Funny. Funny, funny, funny. I'm in no mood to laugh. If this is not plot of his, it's gotta be pity. I'm not sure what would be worse.

“Hey,” he tries to get me to look at him. Then he resigns himself to sitting on his bed across from me.

“Listen.”  
I can't help it. Merlin, how have I never seen this before?

Haven't I lied to myself enough already? I lower my gaze and look at him. My hear skips a beat.

“I just wanted to make you see.”  
“See what?”  
“ _You_.”

“Nice try.”  
It sounds mean and I turn up my nose.

“Thank you, really. I've never felt comfortable looking into a mirror until today, but... I know this can't last.”

“Why not? Is it so hard to believe that something nice can happen to you for once? That things could change for the better?”  
“That's just it, Baz. Since when have you ever wanted nice things for me? I'm used to chimeras and falling down the stairs and voice-stealing devices and whatever else you can cook up in your evil mansion. Maybe you pity me now, _fine_. But nobody is ever going to understand.”

He grits his teeth and his eyes go darker with every word I spit his way.

“You think I don't know what it's like?” he mutters, voice void of any menace I'd expected from him. I shudder. “To look in the mirror and hate what you see?”

“What?” I breathe.

“Come on, Snow. You know what I look like.

 _Perfect_ , I think.  
“Like a...” He gulps, like he's struggling to get the words out. “...a vampire. Classic. Straight out of a Dracula movie.”  
I lean back on my bed, unsure of what to do. Baz has never mentioned being a vampire before. He's never been this honest with me before. If he tells me this, maybe everything else is true, too. Maybe I can believe him just this once.

“Look, I'm not saying I completely understand what you're going through,” he murmurs. “But I know what it's like not to feel right in your own body. Sometimes, I look in the mirror, and ask myself, who the fuck is that monster? Certainly not Natasha Pitch's son.”  
“Baz...”  
“Do you know what my mom looks like?”  
“Of course. I've seen pictures. She was the headmistress of Watford. One of the most impressive Mages alive.”  
“Then you also know that I look nothing like her, right? I don't look like her at all. I used to. But now I look like the people who killed her. Sometimes... I wish I looked a little more like the five-year-old boy she loved. When there was still colour in my cheeks. When I was still... alive.”

Tears are glistening in his eyes. My breath hitches in my throat. I wish I could touch him. I wish he would want me to. But I can let myself think that now – that I want to. I can stop denying that to myself. I want to hug him. I want to kiss his forehead and pull him close. Suddenly, I wish I was a proper Chosen One, not because I want to save the World of Mages, but because I wish I could save  _him_ .

“I'm sorry, Baz,” I whisper, because I don't want to ruin this. I stand up and cross the space between us. “I'm sorry. I wish... there was something I could do. But... I'm a mess.”  
“And so am I. We match.”

“Right. We're properly tragic, you and I.”  
“More than you think.”

I sit next to him. He's closer than I thought he would be. The room is dark and it's quiet. It makes me do things I normally wouldn't. Like putting a hand on his cheek.

“What do you mean?” I whisper. As long as I don't raise my voice, nothing is going to break this spell.  
“I mean that I – I – Simon...”

He lowers his head. I must be dreaming. But I can't resist. I move forward until my lip brushes against his. Then I grab him by his neck, pull him into me. I knock my nose into his, but I don't care. I have to feel him. Maybe I put a spell on him, too, when I cast “ _**Just be yourself** _ ”. But me being in love with him has nothing to do with the him.

“Simon,” he gasps and his voice flutters. My heart flutters. I feel light. His hand is on my back. He laughs. Maybe it's just that easy to be a boy. As easy as he said. 

“I had this weird... crush on you. When I thought you were a girl.”

“A- a crush?”  
I flush.  
“But now... I'm starting to think that it's hopeless, that I'm hopelessly...”  
“Completely...” I murmur.  
“Utterly...”

“And absolutely...”  
“Crazily in l-”  
I cut him off by crashing my lips into his. And the world seems to slip away until it's just him and me. And I've never felt this young before. It's like all of the 'What if' and 'What would they think?' and 'What would they say?' has been lifted off my shoulders. I breathe. I live. I'm alive, and he is too. I hope he can feel it. I hope he knows. I bite his lip as softly as I can and whisper it, except no words come out. The night washes away and I lie next to him, half on top of him, in a haze.  
“I'm scared,” I whisper. “Of what's gonna happen in the morning. When the spell is gone.”  
“You don't know if it will be gone tomorrow.”  
“It will be gone one day.”  
“You could cast it again. Or you couldn't. It's not important. It will be okay.”  
“Will it, though?”  
“One day,” he mutters into my hair.

“What?”  
“One day,” he repeats and intertwines his fingers with mine. “I promise you, we'll all be happy. The war will be over.” His voice is nothing more than a breath now, and it's like he's singing me to sleep. My eyes drop closed. “You'll congratulate Bunce on some amazing spell she invented, because that's what she'll do, because she's Bunce. You'll live in a house with a garden, where you can pick the wallpaper yourself and play music as loudly as you want. And Bunce will live in the house next door. Wellbelove will have that dog she's always wanted and they will come and visit sometimes. You're gonna wear a grey suit for Sunday dinners. And Aleister Crowley, you'll be so happy. And... we'll be boyfriends. And you're going to be my boyfriend.”  
“Your boyfriend...” I smile.

“And we'll be very much in love, and nothing and no one can hurt us or take our happiness away. No humdrums, no monsters, no terrible father figures. It'll just be you and I, in that nice house, in a quiet neighbourhood. And you'll just be a normal boy. And so will I. No vampires, no heroes, just... two normal boys. One day.”  
“One day.”  
“I promise you.”  
“Okay. Okay.”  
He cups my cheek with one hand.  
“And in the meantime, I'm just... going to love you. All of you. As you are. I hope that's enough.”

And like that I fall asleep, the softest cloud of hope dulling my senses.

I wake up and I feel heavy. I had the weirdest dream. Baz was nice to me. I was a guy. Baz was  _nice_ to me. I fell asleep in his arms. But it doesn't matter – I have to face another day of responsibility and I'm going to try and try and try. Baz is going to be a pain. What I  _want_ has to wait. Forever, probably. But then I force my eyes open, and realize that I'm in Baz' bed. I can tell that the “ _**Just be yourself** _ ” spell has worn off, but I'm still a guy. That was real. My name is Simon Snow. Suddenly it feels easier to get out of bed. Having this body doesn't seem like such a burden any more.  _Everything is going to be okay._ Baz must have gone down to breakfast already, like usual.

Penny waves me over when I come down into the breakfast hall. I have to tell her everything as soon as possible. Baz flashes me a smile from across the room. I start eating a scone to keep from blushing and fail.  _Everything is going to be alright._

Suddenly, I hear a loud crash and spin around. I call for the Sword of Mages immediately, even before I can lay eyes on the smashed glass door or the people tangled on the floor. They're fighting and as I look closer, I can recognize that one of them is the Mage. He hits his opponent with a spell and scrambles off him.  
“There's vampires on the grounds,” he declares. “Everybody evacuate!”

For a moment, everything is silent, then the entire room erupts into chaos. Penny, Baz and I are the only ones who stay calm. Agatha lets out a shriek and starts rambling about how we should leave, but she stays, too.

“Simone, I need your help!”

I feel Baz' stare in my neck as I rush to him, but when the Mage leads me outside, I forget all about it. The fight is more important. It always has been. I can't let anyone get hurt. There's three of them in the yard, back to back, hissing. One of them has a pocket knife, another carries a piece of wood, maybe from a chair. They don't look prepared to fight. Something feels terribly off.

“What are they doing here?” I yell, holding my sword out in front of me, ready for an attack from any side. I have no idea how many more there are. There's never been a vampire attack at Watford before. Not since Baz' mom...

It doesn't add up. If the vampires wanted to attack, they certainly wouldn't do it without real weapons.

“You have to strike now, Simone,” the Mages urges me, but makes no move toward the vampires. It seems an awful lot like a set-up.

“Are you trying to test me?”  
“What? No. What are you talking about? Eliminate the threat. You have to be ready at all times.”  
The vampires huddle closer together, making no move to lash out. They bare their fangs at us and paired with their pale grey skin they look pretty intimidating, and yet I don't feel like they're threatening at all. They seem to be the ones who're scared.

“I – don't -”  
I shake my head, I don't know what to think. I can't disobey the Mage. But I'm not going to attack first.  
“Simone!”  
He keeps yelling at me. But my name is not 'Simone'. I let the Sword of Mages disappear. As soon as my weapon is no longer directed at them, the vampires start running away and the Mage sneers, whips out his wand and immobilizes them. I'm terrified, and I can't move.

“They're monsters, Simone,” the Mage says dismissively. “I thought I taught you better then this.”

My hands start trembling. He did. He taught me to kill first, ask questions later. But I know now that vampires are human after all. And if I kill them – if he kills them – he's the monster. Maybe Baz was right. Maybe I can be a boy. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to do everything in my might to stop a monster.

“Wait!” I yell and run to the Mage. I don't have a plan, I never do, because I'm a disaster, but things work out in the end. Somehow. I feel the magic prickle under my skin.

“Don't kill them,” I say and grab his arm. He sends me an annoyed glance.  
“I'm going to finish what you can't, Simone. Someone has to.”

“Bring them to the Coven. Give them a trial. Bring them to prison.”  
“I don't understand you. I thought you wanted to be the saviour of the World of Mages. So, I give you an opportunity to save someone and you disrespect me like this. It was going to be an easy win. It would have given you a boost of confidence. Just what you needed after yesterday's fallout.”  
“You have no idea what I need. You have no idea who I am. You told me to be myself, and I'm not – I'm not a killer.”  
“It's not killing,” he groans. “You're ridding the world of monsters. What's wrong with that?”  
“This is not a fight – this is – a – a slaughter. You brought them here? Teleported them? What, from their home?”  
“I'm just doing what any good mentor would do. I tried giving you a challenge, and yet you fail at the most simple task.”  
He starts growing angry.

“Maybe I was wrong about you. You are too weak to wield so much power.”  
“Well, you're stuck with me!” I yell. “I didn't choose this. But I can't change this. Believe me, if I could give this power to someone better suited, I would, but I can't. So I'm the one who has to do the right thing. And I have no – no clue what I'm doing, but I know that killing is not the right thing. Not like this. If you kill them, then I'm not going to fight for you. Ever again.”  
I hope he doesn't call my bluff, but I'm crying and I'm desperate and it might just be enough to make him believe me. Of course I'm going to fight again the next time a real threat arrives. When people's lives are at danger, I can't stay at the side and do nothing. He retracts for a moment, but I'm not done talking. I see Penny and Agatha approaching from the building, but I ignore them. I'm furious.

“You can't do this. You can't manipulate me like a puppet. I'm a real person, no matter how hard that is to believe. I'm not your hero. Maybe I'm nobody's hero. I'm sorry. All of you. I'm sorry. I can't, okay? I can't be who you want me to be. I'm sick of it. I – I'm sick of being who you all see in me.”  
Penny reaches me and puts her hand on my arm but I flinch away. I can't look at her, I can't look at Agatha.  
“Because I'm not. I'm really not,” I sob. “and Penny, I'm sorry that I'm not the feminist icon you want me to be, or that I don't want to paint nails with you, Ags, I just – or, or the hero that you all see in me. I can't – I can't. I tried so hard, but I'm just not the powerful magician you all see in me.”  
The Mage frowns at me like I'm a puzzle he can't figure out.

“My name is Simon. I'm not a girl.”  
I say it with certainty.

“And I'm not going to fight Baz. I'm not going to fight in your war. It's not my war. I am going to keep trying. I don't think I could stop if I wanted to. I'm going to try to save the World of Mages, but I'm not sure if I can. And all of you need to stop being so sure that I will.”  
“Oh, Simon,” Penny whispers and when she tries to lay a hand on my shoulder now, I let her. The Mage looks like he's bitten into a very sour lemon. Agatha gives me a small smile.

“Alright,” the Mage says eventually. He doesn't seem sure what to do. “I'm not going to kill the vampires, but we're going to talk about this.”  
Then he spells himself and the vampires away and we're alone in the yard. The wind beats our clothes and I'm only now realizing how cold it is.

“Hm,” Penny says. “Suddenly everything is starting to make sense.”  
Agatha laughs. “You're right.”

It's cold, but I'm starting to feel warm.  _Everything is going to be alright._

“I have to find Baz,” I say and start walking towards the shattered glass door. They don't follow me. Baz is still in the breakfast hall, looking forlorn. I step closer to him, but as soon as he hears me coming, he stumbles back.  
“Baz,” I say softly.  
“What?” he barks. “You want to finish the job? The one vampire on the premise you haven't killed yet?”  
“Baz...” I repeat, my heart aching.

“You change your mind? You believe me now that I'm not alive? This couldn't have ended well anyway.”

His voice is sharp and I feel cold again. I've got goosebumps all over. I just want him to stop talking like this, but I don't know what to say. I don't know if I can find the words.

“You're the Mage's pet and you always will be. And we're going to have to fight each other eventually. I don't know why I thought anything else was possible.”  
There's anger in the way his lips twitch, but there's unfathomable sadness in his eyes. I wish that for once in my life I could find the words. He seems to be waiting for it. Then he turns around, back straight, with the posture of a Pitch.

“What about that house with the garden, Baz?” I call after him. He stays still, but doesn't turn back around. I walk closer, not knowing how to stop him. How can I take that weight of his shoulders?  
“Just a dream,” he says with that sharp edge in his voice. He was saving me. But now it's my turn to save him (and I think maybe I can be a hero after all).

“Not a dream. A promise,” I mutter and touch his neck. He stiffens and doesn't turn around. “I didn't kill those vampires. And I'm not going to listen to him any more.”  
“Why not?”  
“Because I know that he's wrong about the vampires. They're not monsters. They're human.”  
“Human?”  
“You're human, Baz. I'm absolutely certain of it. And he's wrong about the war, too.”  
“So, that's what you're saying, then? We can be human after all?”  
“Yes. Because, Baz, I'm – I'm hopelessly -”

Baz turns his head.  
“Crazily?”  
“Yeah.”  
And maybe one day – no, certainly, one day, I can say it, too. I take his hand and there's a broken smile on his lips. We haven't fixed everything yet. But we're getting there.

People are never going to see me for who I am. Me least of all, because I stumble over my words and don't know where I'm going with them. It's quite a curse – we're all doomed to never understand one another. But we're all trying. We're trying so hard. And I think that it might be enough – enough to make us feel like we're not alone. I can think of nothing greater to hope for.

 


End file.
